


Wish You Were Here

by lepetiterik



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepetiterik/pseuds/lepetiterik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Gojyo wished Jien was there and the one time he didn't</p><p>Tags will be added for each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Age 5

The slap shocked him more than it hurt and was just a stinging heat on the side of his face. The milk from Gojyo’s cereal soaked into his socks as the tense silence continued. Neither dared to move, frozen in the moment after the ringing slap of her hand meeting his cheek. 

It had been an accident, dropping his bowl. As he had stepped down from the chair he had used to reach the countertop, he hadn’t realized it was so close to the chair and hit his elbow. The short lived pain that had lanced up his arm made him drop the bowl, milk and cereal splashing everywhere as the bowl broke in three.

The soft click of a shifting piece of broken bowl on the floor brought a flood of sounds back to Gojyo: Mom’s shaking, angry breaths, his own staccato heartbeat, the drone of the the bugs outside on the hot summer day.

“Go your room!” Mom yelled, the sudden noise making Gojyo jump and scramble to leave the kitchen, slipping in his milk soaked socks. As he hit the floor, Gojyo stripped the socks from his feet and bounced back up before Mom could yell at him again and dashed to his room where he shut the door, leaning against it. 

His tiny shaking hand crept up to the warm patch on his face, a bit puffy from the impact, but not painful. Gojyo could hear Mom cursing and throwing the bits of the broken bowl in the sink with enough force to break them into smaller pieces. He waited to hear if anymore dishes would break. She did that sometimes, when she was mad. Gojyo had asked Jien about why she did that, but he didn’t have any answers. Sliding down the door, Gojyo sat, burying his face in his hands. Mom had never hit him before. Sometimes he’d seen her swing, but she stopped short and just roughly push him out of her way.

Mom had already been in a bad mood because Jien had left earlier to meet his friends and left Gojyo behind for her to “deal with” as she had said, loud enough so Gojyo would hear. He did understand by now that she didn’t like him, no matter what he did. That’s why he had tried to make himself cereal instead of asking. He didn’t even spill the milk when he poured it. But his pride about his accomplishment had shattered like the bowl.

Gojyo sniffed, tears starting to fall as the adrenaline left his system. He wasn’t scared, no, fear would come later for him, but he was surprised and upset. Gojyo put his arms around his knees, curling in on himself. His feet felt tacky on the the dirty floor. Curling up tighter, he felt small, but not small enough, not enough fly away like the bugs he heard outside or one of the ladybugs that crawled freely through the house. Gojyo liked to rescue them; pick them up, their tiny legs tickling his hands as he brought them to a window or outside. He’d gently brush them off and let them go back to their ladybug families where they belonged. 

Right now, Jien was out playing with his friends. He had those and they didn’t like it when Gojyo tagged along. They called him mean names or purposefully let branches hit him as the group tromped through the woods. Once, when Jien wasn’t looking, they had pushed Gojyo into a patch of poison ivy. He’d been itchy and red for days. But Gojyo would rather be there with Jien and Jien’s stupid friends than here alone. 

An hour passed before Gojyo finally uncurled himself from the door. He was hungry but he didn’t dare leave the safety of his room. Gojyo wished Jien was here. He’d know what to say to make Gojyo feel better and would give him a hug, but it would be hours before Jien got home. Gojyo settled for watching for Jien from the window, paying no mind to his sticky feet as he climbed on the bed. He just wanted his brother here with him so he wouldn’t be alone.   
  



	2. Age 12

Gojyo was somewhere between shivering and too hot as he walked around the city. Waves of nausea rolled through him and he was pretty sure he would have thrown up by now if he had actually eaten anything recently. He adjusted the the hoodie, making sure his hair was hidden and continued to look for Jien. It had been about a week since Gojyo ran after Jien, taking only a few meager supplies and his pocket money hoping to catch up with him. 

But now his supplies and money had run out and he could tell the cuts on his face were infected. It didn’t take a genius to figure out puffy, oozing, and painful was a bad combination and most likely the reason Gojyo’s head was swimming.

If he could just find Jien… if he could just find Jien, all of this would go away. Jien could help him clean up the cuts - he was good at that stuff - and they could go somewhere. They wouldn’t be able to go home, not that Gojyo would have wanted to. The idea of crossing that threshold again and seeing her body froze him to the core and his heart rate sky rocket. 

Gojyo shook himself. He couldn’t think about that now. He needed to find Jien. 

Gojyo stopped at the next bench he came to, leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. His hair felt stringy with sweat and its general state of unwash. His skin felt cold and clammy despite how overly hot he felt and his cheek was aching. Gojyo knew he couldn’t ignore it anymore. The bandage he had slapped on before he left was hanging on by a few bits of glue on the medical tape and the fact it was stuck to whatever had come from the cuts and had crusted there.

Gojyo lit a cigarette and contemplated his options. He had enough cash to buy a pack of gum, which meant anything other than water was out when it came to cleaning his face. Tapping lightly on the gauze, Gojyo grimaced. That wasn’t gunna cut it. He needed to clean out all the grossness that was making him sick.

Making up his mind, Gojyo finished his cigarette and headed to the nearest pharmacy. Trying to look as least suspicious as possible, Gojyo walked to the wound treatment aisle. Gojyo snagged anything that looked like what they had in the first aid kit at home - gauze, medical tape, and antibiotic ointment - and stuffed them into his little pack. He grabbed a bottle of painkillers too. He grabbed a candy bar on his way up to the counter, figuring if he bought something, he’d be less likely to be caught stealing the rest. Hopefully no one would suspect the twelve-year old of taking anything. Trying to look disinterested and bored, Gojyo paid and left, praying that the alarms wouldn’t go off or something. 

It wasn’t until Gojyo was a block from the store that he let himself relax. He ate the candy bar as he found someplace he could clean his face.

After painfully getting the old bandage off and cleaning out what he could, Gojyo sufficiently covered the aching cuts with the antibiotic cream and put a new bandage on. Despite the painful process, it already felt a little better. He swallowed down a couple advil and shoved everything back in his pack to resume his look for Jien. 

He had to find him. Gojyo didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't smoke, kids. Also, don't neglect your wounds that long. Clean them and change the bandages regularly.


	3. Age 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the tags have updated, but, sadly, this is canon. More on that in the bottom.

If Jien were here he would have never had to do this. Gojyo knew it wasn’t right just like he knew the sound of those squeaking bedsprings weren’t when Jien would calm Mom down. This wasn’t even his first time doing this. He’d fuck or be fucked by anyone who’d give him enough cash for a pack of cigarettes and a chance to move onto the next town. There was less risk doing this than ripping off shit and trying to pickpocket someone. Well, less risk for him anyway.

But Gojyo couldn’t help but think that maybe this was all he was good for. It’s not like they really cared about him. He did know the difference between being a good lay, a cheap lay, and someone genuinely giving a shit. No, they were just one of the few that weren’t disgusted to touch him and he wasn’t stupid; knew he was just some fetish fuck. Why else would you go for a fourteen-year-old hanyou unless you were some sick pervert? He could lie to himself all he wanted but there was no way he looked of age. This one didn’t even pay him, but for a hot meal, shower, and shelter, Gojyo found he’d do just about anything. It made him feel sick and gross but there was also a small amount of relief and comfort in the fact he could pretend, just for a moment, someone cared. 

Although Gojyo’s eyes were dry - they had been for years - he found himself brushing a hand across them, just in case. He wished Jien was here to tell him not to cry. Tears didn’t solve anything and never did him any good. Jien had to be somewhere out there and Gojyo knew he should be out there looking for him, not lying in this too soft bed.

Though, Gojyo was starting to wonder if it was even worth it to find Jien. What good was looking now that it’d been two years since Jien just left him. A seed of resentment had taken root under the hurt. Jien had just left him there, scared, bleeding, and sitting in a puddle of cooling and congealing blood. He had left Gojyo with her. Even with the sheet he’d put over her so he didn’t have to look, the little blossoms of red, like flowers, that began to grow and stain the sheet did little to hide the truth.

Gojyo forced himself out of the bed, careful not to wake the other occupant and grabbed his pack and lighter on the way to the bathroom. Shoving the window open, Gojyo shivered as he watched the late night bustle of the city below. With shaking hands that had nothing to do with the cool night air across his bare skin Gojyo pushed his hair from his face and lit up. 

Exhaling, the smoke drifted out the window, disappearing into the night. Sometimes, Gojyo wished he could dissipate like that. No more problems, just letting the wind take him far away. No more back allies, sore knees, split knuckles, fading bruises, empty stomachs, harsh words, cold nights, and the ever present aching loneliness that always suffocated him. No more struggle to keep afloat and keep his head above water when he just felt like he was being held down and pulled under. Jien was supposed to be his life raft. He’d find him and get out and be okay. But Jien just seemed to drift further and further away and Gojyo found himself tired of swimming.

But what other choice did he have? Besides, his continued existence pissed off a lot of people and Gojyo found spite to be a decent motivator. Nothing makes someone want to do something more than to have people tell them they shouldn’t or that they can’t. With a flick, Gojyo sent the used butt of his cigarette out the window. 

Tomorrow he’d leave here and look for Jien. He was sick of this town anyway. Padding back into the bedroom, Gojyo slipped under the blankets again, curling up to the warm body beside him and drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm actually going to direct you to one of my favorite series but has the best canonical description/explanation of this time period in Gojyo's life, which is partly where I got the idea for this fic in general.   
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/10642  
> Also, let me direct your to urban dictionary: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=kept+man
> 
> We're half way through. Let me know what you think.


	4. Age 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally more happy with this chapter. So once again, here it is.

That two-timing, bottle-blond, jackass of a partner had left him high and dry again. Or well, left Gojyo on the ground in a wet alley with cops on his tail and not even two yuan to rub together. This was so fucking typical. Every time a job or some half-baked scheme went tits up, who got stuck in an eight by eight holding cell? Gojyo, that’s who. 

Jumping back to his feet and dodging trash cans and boxes as he bolted down back streets and alleys, Gojyo cursed himself for trusting Banri. He knew, he  _ knew _ as soon as he handed over the bag of cash he’d never see it again. Banri took it and ran as the sirens blared and before Gojyo even hit the ground after hopping the fence. Banri was disappearing around the corner. Running out into the main street, Gojyo didn’t see the asshole blond anywhere. Desperately hopping Banri went to home, Gojyo walked for an hour around the four blocks near the place he and Banri had been crashing to make sure he wasn’t followed before entering. When he got there, all of Banri’s things were gone. Besides the draws hanging open and the state of disarray that went past the normal mess, nothing would suggest Banri had ever been here. Gojyo swore and kicked the wall, instantly regretting it as pain shot up his foot.

He dropped heavily to the floor, resting his head in his hands. How could he be so stupid? No, he knew exactly how he could be this stupid. Gojyo’d follow anyone who treated him with anything than open disdain and disgust. Banri was an asshole, but he was a relief compared to the miserable hell of being alone and being used. Lighting a cigarette and pushing his hair back, Gojyo dropped his head back against the wall. He should know by now, everyone leaves.

Gojyo almost honestly believed Banri would stick around through thick and thin, no matter how many times he’d joked about leaving Gojyo behind if things fell through. The worst part of all this was, Banri knew how much Gojyo hated to be alone and loved to throw it in his face. He could get Gojyo to do anything by threatening to walk. Hell, that’s how they ended up on this job. Banri had come home with this great idea. They could rob a small time convenience store, one of those with no cameras, in and out. Split the cash, get the hell out of this town before anyone could catch up. The only catch was they’d be robbing some small mom and pop shop. The idea of robbing anywhere didn’t sit too well with Gojyo, although the quick cash did, but especially this place. They never checked his ID when he bought something he shouldn’t have been allowed to, the owners were always friendly, and if he was short a couple bucks, they covered it for him.

But as soon as Gojyo showed his hesitation, Banri said he’d just do the job himself and leave Gojyo’s ass behind. And being alone sucked so much. Those four years after Jien left were the worst. No one to talk to, to care about him, to rely on. Then Banri had shown up. He wasn’t a good friend, Gojyo could recognize that, but he beat that aching and eternal loneliness that made Gojyo want to curl up and die.

And now he was gone. 

Just like Jien.

Gojyo finished his cigarette, lighting a new one.. He didn’t know how he was going to make rent for their shitty little flat. It was barely big enough for the two of them, and even still, the rent was more than he could make on playing gambling alone. Banri had taught him mahjong and he also knew poker. If he could avoid selling himself again, he would, even if it meant a few cold nights in an alley.   
As Gojyo ran through all his options, he couldn’t help but keep coming back to the idea this would all be easier if Jien had been there. If he’d never left him behind, Gojyo wouldn’t be alone. Anger had long since replaced sadness and as much as he wanted to find Jien, he also wanted to tell him off for leaving him. How could he just walk away? What was Gojyo supposed to do on his own?

Why was he always on his own?

**Author's Note:**

> My first shot at a solo multi chapter fic (albeit short chapters). Lemme know what you think!


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